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  “Sorry, Mister Touchy, I thought you private investigator types were supposed to have eyes in the back of your head?”

  “I do, but they were closed.”

  “Need a refill?” he asked again.

  “Yeah, black.”

  “I’m gonna get some pastry, you want something?”

  I was going to tell him I’d already had a caramel roll, but the last one was so good I said, “Yeah sure. I think maybe I’ll try one of those caramel rolls.”

  “Good, give me ten bucks will you?”

  “What?”

  “Hey look, you called me. I’m here. I know you plan to pump me for some sort of information. The least you can do is buy me coffee and a pastry. What’s the problem? I’m the guy bringing it all to the table.”

  I gave him a twenty and made a mental note to list it on my expense report to Louie.

  I went back to checking the crowd while Aaron worked his way forward in line. I was studying two women who I would have rated 9’s or 10’s before I’d met Candi. Now I was thinking they probably had pain-in-the-ass personalities.

  Aaron set the coffees down then slid a hubcap-sized caramel roll toward me. “See anything worthwhile?” he asked.

  “Actually no, I’m guessing they’re probably a pain in the ass.”

  “The blonde and the Asian woman?”

  “Yeah, you checked them out?”

  “Hello.”

  “God, they’re doing the little piece thing. You know, where they pull a crumb off so it doesn’t look like they’re really eating a lot. I’ve had dates eat their meal and half of mine like that.”

  “Yeah, it’s the kiss of death when they just want a little bite of your dessert.”

  We chatted on for a few minutes until Aaron got tired of me wasting his time.

  “So, what do you want?”

  “Want? Why do I have to want anything? Can’t I just want to see you, hang with my pal? Apparently buy him breakfast.”

  “Possibly, but that’s not the way you usually work. You want something, so what is it?”

  “What can you tell me about the D’Angelo brothers?”

  “Hmm-mmm, moving up from cheating spouses to major bastards, are we? How can I put it? I guess if they were eliminated by their competition it would only make the city a little better place to live.”

  “Just background for a client. I know the one brother, Gino, has a hearing coming up in the next week or so. My client doesn’t want to get blindsided. All I’m after is strictly background information.”

  “Okay,” he said then took a large bite of his caramel roll. “Well, they’re your typical idiot criminals only maybe a little smarter. Have they murdered people? Possibly. Other than Gino getting nailed on a frankly questionable gambling thing, I don’t think they’ve ever been prosecuted, at least not successfully. And by the way, word is Gino’s going to win his appeal.”

  “He’ll get off?”

  “He’s got the perfect alibi; short term memory loss, and it seems legit. The guy can’t honestly remember anything. He certainly can’t take care of himself. Frankly, there isn’t a jury in town that’ll convict the guy. And if for some reason we were able to catch him red-handed, the worse that would happen is he’d get sent to a state hospital and take it easy for a few months. Talk about a waste of taxpayer money. With all the austerity measures coming down I think we’d all just as soon see his brother Tommy picking up the tab for the guy’s maintenance.”

  “So he’s getting off?”

  “I’d say there’s about a ninety percent certainty. Look, he served six months of a six year sentence and the state taxpayers picked up the tab. Nice if it would make a difference, he learned his lesson, but I’m not sure he even knows he was locked up.”

  “And the gambling?”

  “If it’s going on it’s nothing we’ve been able to substantiate. To tell the truth, with all the cutbacks and the crime lab problems, we got a lot bigger fish to fry than those two clowns taking bets on the Super Bowl or whatever. You know who you should try, Manning in homicide.”

  “Manning? Detective Norris Manning, that by-the-book whack job?”

  “He calls them like he sees them.”

  “That guy is nuts and has never really been a fan of mine.”

  “He’s a straight shooter I’ll give you that, but he has his hand on a lot of different pulses out on the street.”

  “Yeah, well the only place he’d like his hands is around my neck. Maybe you could touch base with him for me and…”

  “No.”

  “You want to think about it? I mean I did just buy you coffee and enough calories to last both of us until Wednesday.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that, but my answer is still no.”

  “I’ll figure something else out. On a more pleasant note, I’m picking up some rumors you may once again be anointed.”

  “How’s that?” Aaron asked.

  “Moving over to head up the homicide unit.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Maybe like your pal Manning, I just have my hand on the pulse of the street.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Thanks, Aaron, you just confirmed it.”

  He sat back and looked at me for a moment then smiled and changed the subject. “How’s the love life? Whoever she is, has she dumped you yet? ”

  “Very funny. For your information I’ve met a very nice woman that I find myself smitten with.”

  “Umm-hmm, and let me guess, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, you’ve had wild sex with her, and this will be great for about three weeks until she all of a sudden comes to her senses. At which point you’ll call her by the wrong name in bed, smash up her car, or do something equally stupid, and she’ll probably file a restraining order. Sound familiar?”

  “That may have been the old me, I grant you. But, no kidding, this one seems to be different.”

  “Has anyone told her?”

  “She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

  “Really? You recognize women can think beyond choosing a different position? This is new. In that case I wish you all the luck in the world. How long have you been seeing her?”

  “Oh, well, actually, we’ve only been going out a short while. I…”

  “Oh don’t tell me, let me guess. She was drunk in a bar; you picked her up some night and brought her home, right?”

  “No, she wasn’t drunk at all. In fact, she wasn’t even drinking. We just met one night and sort of started chatting. That sort of turned into an opportunity for some further conversation, and anyway, it’s been going pretty well.”

  “Humpf, conversation, what do you know? Maybe you can change. Hope it works out, Dev.”

  “Thanks, me too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I didn’t have Candi’s phone number so I called and left a message for her at the Tutti Frutti Club. She phoned me back later that night.

  “Dev, hi. I was wondering if I was ever going to hear from you again, or did you just want to grope me for that one night?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t have your phone number and I couldn’t find you in the phone book.”

  “You actually have one, a phone book?’

  “Just for old time sake. You interested in getting together sometime?” The background noise sounded like she might be working.

  “Actually, I’m just finishing up here.”

  “You got time for dinner?”

  “Tonight? Yeah, matter of fact that sounds great. I need maybe an hour to get home, hose the club off me, and get dolled up. How ‘bout I meet you somewhere?”

  “You know Charlie’s, about Larpenteur and Lexington, a low key burgers and jeans sort of place?”

  “See you there in an hour, and I’m known to not be on time,” she said.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Apparently, forty minutes late was still considered to be in the realm of acceptability. Who knew? There were maybe a hal
f dozen people in the place. I was seated in a booth just beneath the plastic, faux-stain-glass lamp shade advertising Old Style Beer. When she entered, Candi was the only woman in the place. She quickly looked around and I waved. A couple of heads turned, but no one stared as she made her way around the pool table to the booth I was sitting in.

  “Hey, how’s it going? Sorry I was running a little behind,” she said. She planted a kiss on the top of my head, waved me into the corner of the booth then slid in next to me.

  “Actually, I was going to go to the bar and get us a drink. There’s no waitress here, not classy like the Tutti Frutti. What can I get you?”

  “Relax, I’ll get it. You want another beer?” She nodded at my half-empty glass.

  “No, I’m okay for now. Put it on my tab. That’s Charlie behind the bar.”

  She nodded and went to the bar. At first I thought she was chatting with one of the patrons at the bar, but then it looked like she might be exchanging words with him. I was going to go up and make sure everything was all right when she returned smiling and carrying a frosted martini glass with two large olives.

  “Everything okay?” I looked over toward the bar.

  “Just some jerk that has a problem with sexy women. Don’t worry about it. I deal with a dozen guys a night like that. I think I may have seen that idiot at the club a couple of times. Come on this looks good,” she smiled and grabbed her glass.

  “That your drink of choice?”

  “Yep, double vodka martini, two olives. I found gin changes my personality.”

  “Well, here’s to you,” I said and raised my glass.

  “No, to us,” she smiled and we clinked glasses. As she gulped, she stared at me over the frosted rim of her glass with those gorgeous brown eyes.

  “Any trouble finding this place?”

  “No, I’ve been passed it a million times just never made it inside. Didn’t it used to have a different name?”

  “Yeah, really clever, Ted’s. I think Charlie was in here so much he decided to just buy the place and here we are.”

  We talked for a while. Candi finished her martini, ate the two olives in one bite then looked longingly at her empty glass.

  “Want another?”

  “You mind?” she asked.

  “God no, except that we’re going to switch places so I can run to the bar and fetch the drinks. You’re supposed to be off work and relaxing. The menu is posted behind us, that chalk board on the wall,” I said then followed her out of the booth.

  She took a step or two toward the chalk board to read it. Not that there was much to read; a half dozen versions of cheese burgers, and for an additional buck and a half you could substitute onion rings for fries.

  “I think I’ll have that bleu cheese burger. You feel like splitting some onion rings?”

  “Instead of the fries? Charlie has great fries?”

  “No, as a side. I like fries, too,” she said.

  “Back in a minute,” I smiled.

  I gave our order to Charlie. He poured my beer and was getting a frosted glass for Candi’s martini when the guy Candi had words with glanced over at me. I could tell he was drunk, not falling down drunk, but definitely not sober. Probably the resident barfly. He gave me a stupid grin and sort of wobbled his head.

  “You must like ‘em big,” he said. There was a familiar sort of twang to his voice, but I couldn’t place it.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your gal there, looks like she knows her way round the dinner table, and probably ain’t seen her feet in twenty-five years.” He chuckled then looked at the two guys within ear shot. The one closest half turned his back.

  I looked at him for a moment trying to place the voice thinking maybe he knew me and was just making a really bad joke. He was sort of big, sort of out of shape, in a purple Vikings jersey with a baseball cap pushed back on his head. The cap was embroidered Local 120, St. Paul’s teamsters union. I thought about dropping him right there; knocking him off his stool. I thought about slamming his forehead against the bar; maybe breaking a glass over that baseball cap perched on his fat head. The old Dev would have done it in a heart beat.

  Charlie placed Candi’s martini on the bar. “Everything okay here, Dev?” he asked then stared at the barfly.

  “Yeah, Charlie, no problem. Enjoy your night, pal,” I said then picked up our drinks and walked back to the booth.

  “You okay?” Candi asked.

  “Hmmm-mmm, yeah sure,” I said and raised my glass.

  “You sure? Your face looks kind of red,” she said then glanced over my shoulder toward the bar.

  “No, I’m fine. To us,” I said and we clinked glasses.

  “It was that drunk with the baseball cap, right?”

  “You’re right; he’s a drunk and an idiot.”

  “Bastard called me fat.”

  “What?”

  “Relax, I’ll deal with it.”

  “I’ll have Charlie toss him out.”

  “No don’t, please, let’s just enjoy the night.”

  Our burgers came, along with a heaping basket of onion rings. Charlie told me the onion rings were on the house. We devoured the entire basket in just a few minutes.

  “I’m running to the can, you want another while I’m up?” I asked.

  “I better not if I’m gonna drive. You got vodka at your place?”

  “I do, along with chilled glasses and olives. Can I make you a night cap?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” she smiled. “Go on now out, out, get going so I can get my hands wrapped around that martini you promised.”

  I came out of the men’s room and went to the bar to pay my tab. I handed the cash to Charlie, “Give yourself five out of that for the tip, Charlie.”

  “Hey, sorry, man, I was out of line, just the beer talking, I’m really sorry.” It was the barfly, and he looked like he was ready to cry.

  “No harm no foul, thanks,” I said, taking my change from Charlie.

  “Buy you and the lady a drink? What’s she like?”

  “Naw, thanks, we gotta get going, have a nice night,” I said and headed back to our booth.

  Candi had her back to the bar and was talking into her cell phone.

  “…with a Viking’s jersey. I want you to deal with it.”

  I waited quietly at the edge of the booth. Candy seemed somehow to sense my presence, turned, and looked surprised I was standing there.

  “I expect you to handle it,” she said then hung up and smiled at me. “That didn’t take long,” she said.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Just one of the girls at work, no big deal. Ready?”

  “She like doing shots?” barfly called.

  “Give it a rest, Gary,” I heard Charlie say.

  I was still trying to place the voice as we headed out the door.

  “You want to follow me?” I asked her out in the parking lot.

  “I think I better, since I don’t know where you live.” she said then clicked a button on her key ring. The lights flashed and an alarm chirped on a dark blue BMW 750. I was pretty sure it was the same car Candi had driven me home in the night we met, although my memory was a bit fuzzy. I did know this, the car retailed for close to a hundred grand and was way out of my price league. In fact, if you combined the other five or six cars in the lot, mine included, Candi’s car was worth about ten times the total amount.

  “Nice wheels.”

  “What are you driving?”

  I pointed across the lot to the red ’95 Fleetwood. I knew it was mine because the rear door on the driver’s side was blue. There was an oil slick about the size of a dinner plate glistening underneath from the light of a distant street lamp, and you could still read the word “asshole” spray painted along the passenger side.

  “That’s your car? God, you could land fighter jets on the hood of that thing.”

  “Yeah, I’m sort of in the process of restoring it,” I lied. “I’ll be easy to follow. M
y passenger side tail light is out.”

  “Did someone spray paint your car?”

  “Just evaluating some retouching techniques,” I said.

  “Oh. Well, I’ll just look for the single tail light. Shouldn’t be much of a problem, that’ll be me right behind you,” she said.

  It took all of fifteen minutes to cruse through Como Park, down Lexington to Selby, and, a mile and a half later, into my driveway. Candi and her BMW remained right behind me the entire route.

  “Any problem finding the place?” I joked after she’d pulled into my driveway and climbed out of her car.

  “No. Hey, did you know both your tail lights are out?”

  “They are?”

  “Yeah, surprised you haven’t been ticketed yet. You better move that up to the top of your restore list.”

  “One more thing to do.”

  She comfortably settled into the far end of my couch, kicked off her shoes, and looked completely at home by the time I came out of the kitchen with her martini.

  “You know if I drink this I’ll probably be unable to drive home tonight,” she said then smiled wickedly and took a very big sip.

  “Counting on it,” I smiled back.

  Chapter Twelve

  I waved good-bye to her as she backed out of my driveway. She’d just finished mauling me for fifteen minutes inside my front door. It was a little before noon, and I debated about going back to bed. I’d cooked her a breakfast of French toast and whatever syrup I’d found in the back of the cupboard. Fortunately, I was able to scrape up a couple of eggs and some Wonder Bread I’d had for a few weeks.

  Amazingly, even with her hangover, Candi still had an appetite. Then again, if last night was any indication, she had an awful lot of energy that seemed to build up quickly and needed to be released.

  I made it into the office feeling like I’d been ridden hard and put away wet. Louie looked like he’d arrived all of ten minutes before me.

  “Hey, Dev, want some coffee? It’s just about ready.”

  “No thanks, I’m all coffee’d out, just coming from a breakfast meeting.”

  “Really? Pardon me for being cynical, but you sort of smell like someone’s perfume, unless you’ve started wearing the stuff yourself.”